


It Didn't Cancel Out

by girlinterrupted



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cancer, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:55:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlinterrupted/pseuds/girlinterrupted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After five years of avoiding the past, Liam has become a shell of himself. He returns home to his sick mother, and his heartbreak, and Louis: the only person who can bring him back to life again. But Louis is heartbroken too, and time doesn't heal everything.</p><p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/641116/chapters/1162561">Super Rich Kids</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just An Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is alright. I know it took forever.  
> (the title will make sense later, promise)  
> Enjoy xx

It had been five years; it was either too soon or not soon enough, depending on the mood Liam found himself in. As the plane descended, he stared out the window. The streets became streets again and no longer appeared to be thin lines stretching over green landscapes and carved into the hills. Being home was a painful reminder of the past; memories of the good times were far more painful than the bad ones.

The fact that those good times existed and were never coming back was harder to handle than remembering the funeral and the night that Harry died. Remembering sunshine resting on the curve of Harry’s back in the late mornings bothered him for years, but he never imagined that five years later it would still make his stomach hurt. Liam wasn’t able to forget these things, but he was able to ignore them. His mother was sick though, and when one’s mother is sick, you return home no matter how busy you are or how upset a city can make you. Mother’s are mothers, and they deserve loving comfort when they have cancer.

Cancer: the real c-word.

He pulled his carry-on bag out from the overhead compartment and allowed a string of people to pass him on their way out. He politely smiled and nodded as they passed him. Always, he was unimposing.

Five years of college and working had passed, and Liam hadn’t kept in touch with anyone except his family. Even his sisters had a hard time getting in touch with him. Somehow he seemed to always be busy: filling his time with this or that, always busy with the gym, or interning, or picking up extra shifts at work. Everyone thought he was so productive, and no one could figure out why he had stayed single all that time. Surely, they would say, he was too good of a man to settle for just anyone: that he merely suffered from having, justifiably, high standards.

In reality, he just wasn’t willing to ever stop settling for something that was dead and gone.

His sister Ruth had offered to pick him up upon his arrival, but he insisted that he would rent a car to use during his stay. With bags in tow, Liam made his way through the crowded airport corridors. His eyes scanned faces. Strangers told him more with their eyes and their expressions than they ever would with their mouths. Ever since Harry, he always smiled at people with sadness in their eyes. It was those people that needed smiles from strangers the most. He had learned that much.

The drive home was un-extraordinary; some cities have the ability to never change. This city was one of them. Besides the occasional new fast food joint, everything appeared to be exactly the same as it was when he was five years younger. Home was the same, and he was happy to pull into the driveway and see his mother’s smiling face. She was still in such an early stage that she seemed almost normal, almost healthy. “Liam!” She shouted, ecstatic enough to be alive let alone to be able to finally see her son again.

After he stepped out of the car, they wrapped their arms around each other. He pressed his face onto the top of her head and smiled, “Hi mum, I’ve missed you a lot.”

“Oh we’ve missed you a ton, but I’ve got to go to the store. Come with me, please? Dad’s not home yet, and Ruth told me to send her one of those text messages once you got here. She won’t know the difference.” She laughed a little, thinking herself devious. He forgot how pleasant his mother’s company was, and despite being exhausted from traveling all day, he agreed to go.

Weaving between people through the grocery aisles, Liam’s mother was sure to grab everything she could remember her son loving. He would take things out of the basket, while she wasn’t looking, that he knew they didn’t need. Grown ups don’t eat fruit snacks, and grown ups don’t need chocolate milk in gallon containers. She would stop and chat to every grocery employee that she came across; it struck him that this was more of a social event than he had ever realized. She would eventually bring him up and he would awkwardly shake employee after employee’s hand as they introduced themselves.

It felt as if the shopping trip would go on forever, and just when he thought he couldn’t take another introduction, she had decided it was time to check out. “Liam,” she said, “I just love visiting the grocery store. Everyone here is so nice, and my favorite cashier is working today,” she turned briefly to look back at him while she walked, “I go through his line no matter what. Goodness, he’s practically sunshine.” She swerved the cart in front of a group of people while turning into a register’s lane. Liam gave the group an apologetic glance.

“Karen!”

“Louis! Dear, it’s so nice to see you.” She began to load things onto the belt. Liam found himself genuinely smiling. He was shocked enough to be unable to find words. He hadn’t spoken to Louis in years. He hadn’t spoken to anyone, and although sometimes he felt his heart aching a bit under the pressure of missing people, he never called.

Louis just began scanning and hadn’t even noticed. When he looked up to ask Karen a question, his mouth dropped open from the sudden realization. It was like a ghost was standing in front of him. “My god, Liam? Is that you?”  
  
Liam walked up to Louis and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tightly, “It’s nice to see you.”  

It had been a long five years for Louis since Liam had left. At first, he couldn’t understand why his calls were never returned. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, and he couldn’t figure out what he had done. He thought they were close, and for awhile, he really thought they could’ve been something. During the three months that followed Harry’s death, Louis had held Liam close to him, felt tears soak his t-shirts, and fed him countless pints of ice cream. Suddenly, Liam was leaving and headed to school somewhere else. Liam disappeared after that. It hurt for a long time, but he eventually understood that he was just another reminder of the worst day of Liam’s life.

Louis pulled away from the hug, “Better keep ringing this up, I don’t want to get in trouble.” He smiled, dragging barcodes over the scanner.

“How in the world do you lads know each other?” Liam’s mother asked with brows furrowed in confusion.

“Just an old friend of mine,” Liam responded quickly while flashing another polite smile. Louis heard the words and nodded, knowing what he was and knowing what he wasn’t, and he was _just an old friend._ It was hard to remember that though now with Liam looking beautiful under the grocery store glow. It was like him to fall in love with the strangers that passed him or went through his line each day. It was easy to love strangers because they can be whoever you think they are and they would never break your heart.

Liam wasn’t a stranger though, but that didn’t make it any him any less susceptible to love than the perfect strangers wandering through aisles illuminated by their mystery. Liam was mystery enough, and Louis always figured when Harry died that Liam had taken that part from him. Five years later after seeing Liam appear out of nowhere, he knew he was right. The transaction was filled with small talk, and at the end of it all, Liam slipped Louis a business card.

“Call me sometime, okay? We can get breakfast, like we used to.”

“Yeah, of course.” Louis smiled and slipped the card into his pocket.


	2. God is Greater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for sexual abuse, please read with caution if you are sensitive to that content.  
> It's not at all graphic, just want you all to be aware xx

Liam woke in a cold sweat; he pulled himself out of his old bed and tried his best to walk as quietly as he could into the bathroom. The light hurt his eyes, and it was only then, when he looked at himself in the mirror, did he realize how red and teary they were. He furrowed his brows and shook his head a little, as if to make the memories go away.

There was more to him than people saw, and no one ever questioned his leaving with Harry gone. He was doing better, a long time ago, and he really thought he would be okay. Being fine just didn't last long enough.

_Faggot._

He could still hear that word come out of that mouth, that dirty, strange, unknowing mouth. He could taste that damned mouth. He tried to spit it away into the sink, but the taste always remained. The reminder was always there. He clenched his eyes shut and sunk to the floor, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He wanted to be as small as possible; he felt like a mere blip on the radar of the universe. There was nothing but this disgusting feeling.

He was just a stranger, but somehow he knew. Somehow he knew Liam was gay, somehow he knew that Liam was tired after a long day, somehow he knew Liam would be easy to overpower. Somehow he knew all of this, yet Liam never saw it coming.

Boys are not taught to be afraid of rapists. Boys are not taught to walk in parking lots with keys between their fingers. Boys are not taught to be aware of footsteps behind them.

Sometimes, Liam wondered why they weren’t.

He clenched his fists as he tried in vain to just not remember for once, but he always remembered. He remembered the black eye he had to explain to his mom as being an accident with a baseball, and he remembered swishing Listerine until his mouth smelt of alcohol. He remembered the shower that never washed the sin away, so he ran away. It was the only way he could avoid the situation, so he held onto Harry’s memory as if to believe that by loving someone who was dead and keeping himself away from anyone else, he would be okay. Maybe if he held onto the idea of someone who treated him like sunshine, he would never be made to feel like dirt again.

If Harry was there, he thought, maybe it would have never even happened. The death that he found peace with began to create this awful weight of guilt and disappointment. Harry died, but Liam didn’t. That stranger wanted Liam alive so that he would remember.

“Fuck,” he whimpered so quietly he could hardly hear himself. Tears stung as they slid gently down his cheeks. The stage of violent crying was over. Now he was reduced to only nightmares in the middle of the night with unassuming tears. He never made a bother or hardly a noise. No one knew, and there was no way to explain away five years of tears easily. People believed what they wanted to believe, and they believed he was fine and successful: a real strong, silent type.

Liam embodied nothing less than what he wanted to appear to embody. Since he couldn’t control that situation, he was going to control every situation following it.  

The time to cry on the floor was over, and he tried his best to pull himself together. Tears were wiped away, cold water was splashed onto his face, and the heaviness in his heart went back to being ignored.  The darkness was too overwhelming; he kept his lamp on the rest of the night. He didn’t sleep much after that. Instead, he tossed and turned and clutched onto his pillow.

“You look more like a cancer patient than mom does,” Ruth said the next morning, lightly pushing Liam’s shoulder as he ate his cereal and laughing as she did so.

“Oh ha-ha,” he responded, “I’m super tired I couldn’t sleep at all last night.”  
  
His mother stood behind him and ran a hand through his tangled hair, “I couldn’t either,” she said quietly, “Heard you in the bathroom late last night, should’ve just spent the night with you, I figure.”

“Next time,” Liam said and rose from his seat to put his empty bowl in the sink. On his way, he stopped and kissed his mother on the forehead. Afterwards, he wrapped his arms tightly around Ruth from behind, “ _And_ _you won’t be invited._ ” He squeezed her and laughed.

Ruth wriggled and fought his grasp, “You know I didn’t like this when I was ten and I really don’t like it now.”  
  
“The whole lot of you can just hush,” Liam’s father called from the living room, “Because neither of you hooligans is invited into my bed.” He laughed and laughed to himself. The other three just rolled their eyes in response. When the doorbell rang, each of them exchanged questioning glances. Liam, voted by the overwhelming 3 to 1 majority, went to answer it.   
  
Zayn stood there with a cigarette perched between his fingers, and his eyes held a sincere and hopeful excitement. “Hey mate," He grinned, "I heard you were back in town, hope you don’t have any plans today.” He opened his arms a little.

“I guess I can pencil you in,” Liam responded as they exchanged a quick hug. After slipping a pair of shoes sitting by the doorway, he called back into the house, “Headed out, be back in a bit.”

With a small smile on his lips and a cigarette wedged between them, Zayn walked towards his BMW in the driveway. “What you brought you back home to us?” He asked, unlocking the doors and slipping into the driver’s seat.

Liam got into the passenger seat. “My mum’s sick,” He responded, wringing his wrists a little. It was harder to say out loud, and he had been struggling with admitting the truth in the statement. She was sick, and being sweet and kind and selfless didn’t mean a damn thing. Good people get cancer. Good people get sick. It didn’t seem fair.

Zayn took the cigarette and put it out in the ash tray, “What’s she sick with?”  

“Breast cancer.” Liam shrugged as if to pretend it was less serious than it was.

“Shit, I'm so sorry,” Zayn responded. He switched on the ignition and backed out of the driveway. “Allahu akbar," he said with his eyes on the road as he drove. The words held this heavy significance, and Liam could feel it because Zayn's voice was calm and beautiful like some sort of backwards angel that was covered in tattoos and smelt of smoke and cologne. None of that made him any less impressive. If anything, it made the blessings even more sacred.

His eyes were glued to Zayn, curious, yet touched. “What does that mean?” He asked.

“God is greater.”


End file.
